I Go With Them


In the early light she asks me
For protection from the world.
She prays for her family,
For her innocence,
For her tortured soul.
She moves closer to me.

She calls me father
But holds no clear image of what I am.
She wants to be a saint,
An artist,
A wealthy woman.

Her little boy shouts
Mommy, it’s today!
And they are gone,
Plunging into a freshly painted world of play.
I go with them.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Something


Weary singer of unsung songs
Moving in deep, undulating waves
Of subconscious longing for flight,
I plunge upwards into soar and glide,
Infused with the grace of birds,
Like the happy release of death
When very old.

So worn
And wishing for the play of wind
On flight feathers,
I let go and fall
Into something
Beyond these words.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved